For Them
by TheBeautifulChaos
Summary: A little bit of drabble on some of the things Sonic and his friend enjoy doing that not everybody knows about.
1. Tails

**Some of you might see the characters doing these things, others of you might not. Either way, I hope you enjoy~!**

**I don't own Sonic & Co...just the story...**

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_Insipred by Tails' face when he sees the inside of Diamond Stadium in the Sonic X episode "Unfair Ball".  
Dedicated to my own "Tails". Your quiet humor and love of baseball made this bit possible, so thank you._

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For Tails, it was baseball.

All of the others assumed that his passion lay within machines, and this was partially true. There was nothing like the smell of oil and grease, the cool metal of his wrenches seeping through his glove to touch his paw, and the elation when a machine worked right the first time. Machinery was the only thing that kept him sane through the winter, for when the snow melted away and the new green grass began to poke through the damp earth, it was only a matter of days before he could be out on his home-made diamond on the outskirts of Station Square. Whenever he got the chance, he would run to his diamond and stand on home plate, letting the joy race through his body before he launched himself into a game of his own.

It was ridiculous, sure. If anyone would have found out, they would have called him crazy. After all, you can't play baseball with just one person. But that didn't matter to him because nothing, not even mechanics, compared to the grip of the wooden bat, the worn leather of his old glove, and the scent of the fresh cut grass that wafted past his nose every so often. He would turn his red and white ball cap around backwards and toss his favorite ball idly to himself, lost in thought. And once his thinking was over, it was time to get his head in the game, so to speak. He would stand at the plate, imaginary bat in hand, and he could see the players, hear the crowd, feel the sweat rolling off his forehead because it was his hit that would decide the fate of the game. With a powerful swing, the little white ball would fly through the air, and the run would begin. A red sneaker connected with the white bag of first base, but the little fox ran on, encouraged by the roar of the crowd. A sharp left turn gave way to a soft plume of white dust left hovering over second and the third base was reached. In the next second he was being screamed at to "RUN!" because an outfielder had recovered the ball and was throwing it towards home! He ran faster, spinning his two tails for an extra speed boost as the distance between him and home plate grew smaller and smaller. In the desperate race to beat the ball, he threw himself to the ground and slid, his gloved fingers gripping the edge of the plate everyone waits, breathless. The umpire's cry of "Safe!" brings the crowd to its feet and in his mind, he's being lifted up by his team and everyone is cheering and screaming his name…and then, he picks himself off the ground and dusts the dirt from his white belly fur, one more game won by a new kind of hero…

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**If you didn't quite catch that: Tails ran the bases while imagining he was the star of a game.**

**Also, I'd appreciate suggestions for Cream, Amy, and Shadow. If you have any, send me a PM about it, please! :)**


	2. Rouge

**(Much thanks to MyLatte and Chaotix11 for being so kind as to leave reviews!)**

**Yay, Rouge's piece is done, which means only Knuckles, Sonic, Shadow, Cream, and Amy left~!**

**I own nothing, save the story...**

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For Rouge, it was charity work.

The line of work that everyone usually associated her with was a slippery spy who was able to get whatever she wanted whenever she wanted. This wasn't a false label, for that very method was how she got her vast collection of jewels. But on her way home from a heist one evening, she walked past the Station Square Orphanage and saw a tired-looking woman cleaning the kitchen, obviously after the evening meal. A little girl, no more than four, ran up to the woman and tugged on her skirt, a look of concern etched into her small face. The woman picked up the little girl and spoke something to her, cradling her head and wearing a similar look of dismay on her own face. The thief felt something stir inside of her; there had to be something she could do to help!

It was ridiculous, sure. If anyone would have found out, they would have called her crazy. When the temperature began to drop and the snow began to fall, she paid closer attention to the orphanage, noting that the woman and her husband would barely disguise their worry as they tried to plan a memorable Christmas for them all with the little that they had. She also paid attention to the children, who were always happy even with their meager possessions. Her heart twisted in pity for them, knowing that they were poor because fate dealt them a bad hand; it was no fault of their own. To this day, if you were to ask her, she still doesn't understand what came over her. She was a heartless thief, used to using manipulation and feminine charm to get her way in virtually every situation. But on that Christmas Eve, she watched the orphanage with a pen and paper in hand, jotting down the number of boys, the number of girls, and the kinds of things they needed most. The owners of the stores she went to were surprised to see a bat buying last minute Christmas gifts and paying for them with diamonds, but her mind was far from the jewelry spent as she pictured the faces of the children the next morning. Sneaking into the old building and setting up the gifts underneath the bare little tree hadn't taken as long as she'd thought, so waiting for everyone to wake up had been near torture. Her jumpsuit was wrinkled, her stomach was grumbling non-stop, and she had faint circles under her eyes for staying awake so long, but all of that was washed away when her ears picked up the shrieks of delight coming from the mass of children at seeing the gifts. The man and woman stood behind them, completely stunned as bright wrapping paper and sparkly bows were flung about the room, but confusion was quickly replaced with joy as the children ran up to the couple, trying to show off all of their gifts at once. The bat felt tears pricking at her eyes and she couldn't help but smile, knowing that even though she lost a few of her once-precious gems, it was all worth it to know that she could bring this much joy to others.

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**Chapter two is done, hurray!**

**Just curious: shall I add Dr. Eggman into the mix?**


	3. Sonic

**Thanks to Guardi-chan and Sonic Speed Blue Blur 23. :3 Sorry this took a bit, but here you are~!**

***Insert disclaimer on how I own nothing related to SEGA here.***

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_Dedicated to Sonic Speed Blue Blur 23. Because of you, Sonic is a chef._

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For Sonic, it was cooking.

One of the perks to being a supersonic hedgehog was having the ability to travel anywhere in the world in the blink of an eye; if you were to ask him what his favorite part of traveling was, he'd tell you right off the bat that it was the food he got to eat. Every destination offered new and tasty treats, and he was more than willing to sample them all. One afternoon, after eating something incredibly delicious, he had a revelation: why not learn to make these delectable dishes himself? That way he could always have his favorite meals and desserts without running to the far corners of the earth to get them.

It was ridiculous, sure. If anyone would have found out, they would have called him crazy. He was well known for his obsessive love of chilidogs, but nobody would have suspected him of being able to combine more than hotdogs, chili, and cheese together. A small notebook and pen began to accompany him whenever he went traveling in order to gather as many recipes as possible. Once he had collected a few of his favorites, he set off to make one, imagining all the while how great it would taste. Confident he could make the dishes with no problem, he tossed the proper ingredients into a large mixing bowl and consulted the notebook when needed. On closer inspection, he found that a mixer would be required before he could put the batter in the oven, but laughed it off and plugged it in, determining that mixing the ingredients would be just as easy. His humor was short lived as the kitchen quickly erupted into a disaster area, splattering the contents of the bowl across cupboards, cabinets, and himself. Wiping batter from his face, he drew his finger down the scrawled instructions, trying to figure out where he went wrong, the determination to figure this recipe out overriding any possibility of calling it quits. His second try was less messy than the first, but a couple taste-tests proved that he had his work cut out for him. Over time, however, he improved. The spoonful of soup he tasted was no longer watery, and the cookies on the cooling rack weren't brittle and bland. Cakes held their form as they were accented with frosting, and his spaghetti sauce made his stomach growl just thinking about it. Cooking began to be almost as natural as running, the pans and spatulas as familiar to him as his favorite pair of sneakers. Chili dogs became an object of the past, replaced with new, more elaborate dishes, but on the occasions when there was no time for a feast, he'd grab a couple and kick back, always wondering what he was going to create next.

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**Knuckles is going to be next, and you'll never guess what he's doing! But if you'd like to try, send a PM my way.**


	4. Knuckles

**Gaurdi-chan, Sonic Speed Blue Blur 23, and Ghostkid33: you guys rock. :)**

**Nothing owned 'cept the idea...*sigh***

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_Dedicated to Seth, who plays the violin so beautifully it brings tears to my eyes every time. Keep on playing buddy; you have talent that the world so desperately needs._

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For Knuckles, it was playing the violin.

Underneath his fingerless spiked gloves lay ten red fingers with the appropriate two spikes on each hand. It was often a source of curiosity for his friends, who joked that underneath his gloves was a fingerless paw with a lone thumb. But in fact, he had ten red normal fingers, and at the moment, these red fingers were itching to play his violin instead of guarding the Master Emerald. It had been about four years ago when he had first spotted the now-priceless instrument in a pawn shop. Its previous owner hadn't taken care of it at all; the wood was faded and in danger of cracking, the remaining two strings were threatening to snap at any second, and the owner of the shop said he'd be willing to give it to him for free if it meant getting the dilapidated treasure out of his hair. The red echidna couldn't describe it, but something drew him to that violin and begged him to take it with him.

It was ridiculous, sure. If anyone would have found out, they would have called him crazy. After all, who would expect the sole, gruff, rough-and-tumble guardian of the Master Emerald to play the violin, and, more importantly, to have any musical ability at all? At first, restoring it had simply been a project to take some of the boredom out of guarding the Master Emerald all the time. Once he had the refurbished instrument in his hand, the next logical step was to learn how to play it. He was hesitant at first, not wanting his hard work to be ruined by his clumsy attempts at making music, but selling the violin to someone else or letting it remain silent were options he didn't even want to consider. He had slaved over the instrument to bring it to its pristine condition, and he couldn't bear having either someone destroy it or having it sit dormant, mocking him as the Master Emerald did. The beginner's books he found at Station Square's music shop taught him where to place his fingers on the fingerboard to produce the correct notes and how to position the bow to touch each string, and in time he could produce any note that was able to be played. He was able to get his hands on complicated works done by famous composers, but nothing made him happier than to play his own songs. Day after day he would stand in front of the sacred gem, peel off his gloves, pull out his precious violin, and draw the bow across the strings, letting the notes drift from the instrument and kiss the air. When he finished, he would store the violin in a crevice in the altar, put his gloves on, lean back against the Mater Emerald, and close his eyes, a slight smile playing on his face as the remainder of his song floated on the breeze.

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**This one is my personal favorite, so I hope you liked it! Shadow is next if I can pull myself together and write his piece...**


End file.
